


Signature

by shieldivarius



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 09:00:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shieldivarius/pseuds/shieldivarius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha teaches Melinda her signature move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Signature

“Your ulterior motive for teaching me your signature move isn’t nearly as hidden as you think it is,” Melinda said between chin-ups.

Natasha smiled up at her from where she sat stretching on the mat below, watching the agility as Melinda switched from arm to arm, careful control allowing her to pull herself up with one hand free of the bar, and enjoying the soft noises the effort of the exercise drew out of her.

It was late, and quiet, because despite there being 24-hour access to all of the gyms, no one other than she and Melinda tended to take advantage of the peace. Or, possibly, word of their schedule had spread and kept everyone else away. S.H.I.E.L.D. gossiped.

“Making sure you have every tool you can have to ensure you come home safely?” Natasha asked.

Melinda dropped down from the bar and, stretching her arms, gave Natasha an unimpressed look. “I was doing that long before you showed up.”

“Helping you continue that trend, then,” Natasha said with a small smile. Melinda rolled her eyes and with a deft twist of her wrist, put her hair up into a bun. Then she paced backward, into the middle of the room, and dropped her hands down by her sides, feet shoulder width apart, body relaxed.

“Show me,” she said.

“Try not to throw me off.”

Melinda’s lips quirked. “No promises.”

Natasha darted forward, grabbed the wrist Melinda threw out to block her and, using the arm as leverage, flipped herself, legs around the other woman’s neck as she rode her to the ground.

Melinda grunted at the landing. “I think I’ve got it,” she said, accepting the hand Natasha held out to help her up.

Natasha nodded toward a rail at the side of the room. “I’ll fix your posture as you practice.” 

Melinda raised an amused eyebrow at her but did as asked, hoisting herself up onto the bar in a handstand and sweeping her legs a couple of times in an arc while Natasha watched and moved a dummy into place. Moving the dummy took her longer than it should’ve—the grace as Melinda arced through the air had her continuously pausing, a small smile on her face.

“Getting the impression you don’t trust my accuracy,” Melinda said, neatly dismounting, apparently pretending she was unaware Natasha had been distracted at all.

“Practice before you go for my neck, please,” Natasha murmured.

Melinda laughed, her gaze tracing from Natasha’s chin to her collarbone and below. 

“Since you asked so nicely.”

Barely using the bar as support, Melinda flipped herself into the air and took the dummy down, thighs tight around its neck. 

Perfect. Perfect and so controlled and Natasha pursed her lips, snorted and crossed her arms. “You’re a liar, Melinda May.”

“Excuse me?” Melinda asked, but there was a small smile in the press of her lips, and her eyes sparkled in amusement.

“You’re a liar,” Natasha repeated.

“I’m a quick study.”

Natasha scoffed, holding back her laughter. “Why did you ask me to show you something you already know?”

“Maybe I wanted to impress you.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, amused by how coy Melinda was trying to play. It didn’t suit her, but it was sweet. “You already impress me, you don’t have to try.”

Melinda made a noise in her throat, somewhere between a _‘hmph’_ and a laugh. The same smile remained in the upturned corner of her mouth.

“Show me, then,” Natasha said, and Melinda’s expression turned surprised a moment before she stepped forward, body language shifting to spar.

They grappled a moment, Natasha with her shoulder wedged into Melinda’s collarbone. Melinda’s knee appeared between her legs, her foot hooked around Natasha’s ankle, and Melinda brought her down in the moment she fought to regain her balance.

A pause on the floor with Melinda still on top of her, and Natasha slapped her hand on the mat twice. Melinda rolled off and ran her fingers through her hair, brushing back out of her face.

“You get up too close.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Natasha murmured. She sat up, raised an eyebrow at Melinda, still sitting on the mat next to her. “You don’t usually seem to mind.” She shifted forward until their knees touched.

“You’re a flirt, Natasha Romanoff,” Melinda said, her tone echoing Natasha’s accusatory one from before. “And I’m serious. You move in too close, too quickly.”

Natasha sat back, leaning away but keeping the contact with Melinda’s knee. “You’re ruining the mood,” she said, flat.

“Mood?” Melinda asked, and made a show of looking around the gym. “Thought you had no ulterior motive.”

Natasha leaned forward, rested her hands on Melinda’s thighs, just above where their knees touched. Melinda’s expression remained a careful study in scepticism. 

“I’m a liar,” she breathed against Melinda’s lips.

“I know,” Melinda murmured, breath barely stirring the air between them before she closed the distance. 

Natasha’s eyes drifted shut. One of Melinda’s hands found her waist, pulled her closer, fingers pressing into her back. Natasha slid one of her hands higher, ghosting her palm and the pads of her fingers up the softness of Melinda’s workout pants.

Melinda broke away for air.

“Not here,” she scolded, hand still as firmly holding Natasha’s waist despite the glare she was trying to fix her with.

“No one’s going to come in, it’s 3am.” The half-hearted glare continued. “Melinda,” Natasha murmured, and rested her forehead against the other woman’s.

“Does your exhibitionism know any bounds?”

“Yes, it stops short at being actual exhibitionism.”

Their foreheads still resting together, Natasha could feel Melinda’s sceptical expression.

“Thinking of someone walking in and catching us doesn’t turn you on at all,” she said, deadpan, disbelieving and far from being a question.

Lips still curved in a smile at it all, Natasha caught Melinda’s upper lip between them.

“Maybe a little,” she teased. “But you know that I am a very private person.”

Melinda leaned back, shaking her head and with a smile on her face as she slid her hand into Natasha’s. “We define that word differently.”

Natasha let Melinda draw her to her feet. “This is a ‘no’ to the sparring mats, then?”

“We’ll talk about it.”

**Author's Note:**

> http://shieldivarius.tumblr.com


End file.
